


Primal Moment

by Cerberusia



Series: since that night I've loved the malicious child [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hand Jobs, Incest, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 11:58:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberusia/pseuds/Cerberusia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Something the matter?" Peter asks, all concern. Derek feels himself start to flush, and mumbles,</p><p>"The tattoo." Not much of an explanation, but Peter's eyes crinkle up at the corners and he says, warmly -</p><p>"Do you want to touch it?" Does he <i>ever</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Primal Moment

**Author's Note:**

> For my _tattoos/tattooing_ Kink Bingo square.

The fact that Peter took him for his initiation isn't a big deal. It gives him an official status as Derek's mentor, but they were close already, and since he's not in any immediate danger or about to get married or anything like that, all Peter's really required to do is spend time with him and be ready to stick up for him against his older cousins if they get too rough (not that Derek needs his help for that, thanks).

They haven't had sex since, though that's not unusual - mentors and initiates do sometimes strike up sexual relationships, but they're pretty uncommon. And considering how closely related Peter and he are, it's not at all surprising. Derek's cool with it - until he wanders into Peter's room to remind him about their scheduled driving lesson, and the world _tilts_.

Years later, if Derek cared to examine such memories, he might call it a primal moment: an instance, occurring at a young age, which leaves an imprint so deep that even when the memory itself is forgotten, the sensation stays with you all your life.

Peter is shirtless, his back turned to Derek, and over the years his body will become only a collection of lines and shadows suggesting the male form. But right now, Derek is hyperaware of the breadth of Peter's shoulders, the smooth musculature of his back, shifting under the ink, the neat dip of his waist. At fifteen, Derek is still filling out, and to him Peter looks overwhelmingly _male_. And atop it all, the crowning glory: the three-legged tattoo stretching between his shoulderblades. It's nothing he hasn't seen before, but it brings back that San Francisco hotel room in hot, uncomfortable detail.

Peter twists and smiles at him. "Derek," he says, "come in. I'll be ready in a moment." He turns back and leans over to grab his shirt, and all the muscles in his back shift, elongating and contracting, slightly distorting the tattoo, and Peter must see something or smell something because he stands up again just holding his shirt and turns properly to face him. "Something the matter?" he asks, all concern. Derek feels himself start to flush, and mumbles -

"The tattoo." Not much of an explanation, but Peter's eyes crinkle up at the corners and he says, warmly -

"Do you want to touch it?" Does he _ever_.

"Can I?" he asks, a bit too fast. He's so reserved normally, he knows it's noticeable when he gets too excited. He feels his ears heat. But Peter doesn't laugh, just says,

"Sure, go ahead," and turns around, totally unselfconscious, waiting for him. Derek takes two quick steps forward to stand half a foot away. He's still two or three inches shorter than Peter, but he's growing like a weed so it won't be long before he catches up - or even overtakes. Man, it'll be weird to be taller than his _uncle_.

His fingertips hover over the tattoo for a second or two, feeling the warmth emanating from Peter's skin, before he places his palm flat over the centre of the tattoo. Something like an electric shock runs through him. The inked skin doesn't feel any different from the surrounding bare flesh, but Derek traces the outline anyway, fascinated by how crisp the edge is between black and pink. He knows that tattoos on humans are rarely this clean: they bleed and fade over the years. But all his family's tattoos look just as new as this one.

He can feel arousal pressing, prickling under his skin, and he should really step away now to get himself under control, but he's caught by the warmth of Peter's skin. Peter must be able to smell it on him, but he's completely calm, so Derek figures if Peter's not bothered, neither is he.

He does need to step away before this gets weird, though. Reluctantly, he pulls his fingers away from Peter's back, and Peter turns around to smile at him. Which means he gets an eyeful of Derek trying to make his erection less noticeable.

Derek flushes in shame, but Peter just keeps smiling in his usual avuncular fashion - and pushes his hand out of the way to replace it with his own.

Derek sucks in a noisy breath and instinctively pushes forward into Peter's hand. Oh god, _this_ is what he wants: Peter's warm, capable hands.

"Really, Derek," says Peter as he unzips Derek's jeans and pushes them down around his thighs with his underwear, "you could just have _asked_." Derek just pants, clutching at Peter's bicep as he jerks him steadily, but hard enough that he can't catch his breath. It's only the same as he does to himself in the shower, but someone else's hand is so much _better_ and he doesn't know why but he isn't really up to figuring it out right now when Peter's paused to run his thumb in circles around the head, which Derek doesn't do but thinks he should start in future. It's almost too much, amazing but maddening, and when Peter goes back to pumping his cock he actually gasps wetly with relief. He isn't looking at Peter's face - can't take his eyes off Peter's hand on his cock - but he knows he's smiling.

Derek's pretty quiet when he jerks himself off, but just like that night in San Francisco, Peter keeps drawing sounds out of him that he just can't stifle. At least when he was getting fucked there was a pillow to muffle himself with. He just keeps making these breathy sighs which are kind of embarrassing, getting louder and turning into half-vocalised moans - which are _definitely_ embarrassing - as he starts rocking forwards into Peter's fist in anticipation of orgasm. Peter obligingly tightens his grip and jerks him faster, bringing up his other hand to grip the base of his cock, behind the knot, until at last he comes with a strangled, guttural noise all over Peter's knuckles. Peter works him through the aftershocks, letting Derek rest his forehead on his shoulder and breathe raggedly. Derek can see the bulge in Peter's jeans, but he's too blissed-out to really register it. He _does_ register Peter licking his hand clean: the pink tongue, the tiny wet noises.

Peter cleans him up first with his fingers, getting as much come for himself as he can, then with tissues, before getting him fully dressed again and guiding him to sit down on the bed. Derek's grateful: his knees are pretty wobbly, and he doesn't want to embarrass himself by actually falling over. After a moment, it occurs to him to reach over to hover his fingers just above Peter's zipper, silently asking permission, but Peter puts it to rest on his thigh instead and opens his pants to jerk himself off. Derek watches the dark pink head slide through his grip and the knot swell at the base, listens to Peter's soft, sub-vocalised groans, and commits it all to memory. He's going to be jerking off to the memory of this for _months_.

Afterwards, they sit in silence for several minutes, Derek's head on Peter's shoulder, until at last Peter says,

"So, ready for that driving lesson now?" Oh hell, he'd forgotten. He scrambles to his feet.

"Yeah!" he says with some enthusiasm - now he's got the basics down, driving's pretty fun, and Peter's a good teacher. Derek doesn't think he'd be so patient. Peter grins at him, bright and unconcerned as usual, and throws an arm around his shoulders to lead him out the door.

Best uncle _ever_.


End file.
